


Cumming Home

by thejourneymaninn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Come play, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Fade Sex, M/M, Size Kink, Smut, a bit of angst, anything's possible in the Fade, but mostly - Freeform, no logic just weird Fade sex, sexy misuse of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Anders and Justice meet in Fade.Bone?Bone!





	Cumming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ethydium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethydium/gifts).



His feet made no sound on the green-tinted ground. The air, shimmering around him, was the only sign that he was in a different realm than the one where his body lay curled up on a narrow cot.

There was no sign of him yet.

It wasn’t a troubling thought, merely an idle observation. He’d find him, eventually. He always did. They were one, even here, even when they were not. There was no hurry.

Time does not exist in the Fade.

He walked on, wisps dancing around his fingers, their fragile voices like faint memories brushing against his ears.

 

The landscape around him changed abruptly, as if he’d stepped through an invisible door, and he couldn’t help smiling.

Muddy fields and sturdy trees, dogs barking in the distance. An echo of home, waiting, created just for him. And over on that tree stump where a small peck on the lips, the first, had felt like the biggest thing that would ever happen to him, sat the one he’d been searching for. In plate armour and a helmet, exactly like on that first day.

 

He didn’t always look like this, but Anders never had trouble recognizing him. He felt his presence, felt _him_ , he’d have known him beneath every shape or mask. In a grey warden uniform, with the face he’d worn when he was fresh outside the Fade (minus the decay). In the plain robes and flowing locks of the senior enchanter of a nearly forgotten, ancient crush. With a face Anders didn’t recognize, but which his gaze had apparently ‘lingered upon’ on the market. Sometimes, his own face, greeting him with a smirk and Justice’s voice.

“Today, it is about who you _should_ love.”

It was quite an experience, kissing his own freckles, sinking into his own body, moaning around his own girth as hands that looked like his but were not his own cradled his face. Who else could have given him that? Who else would have _known_ to give him that?

“You will cherish yourself like I cherish you. It is only just.”

It had taken Anders a long time to understand that Justice’s love lay in his loyalty, in his devotion to Anders’ cause, in the relentlessness with which he drove them towards it, taken him years to notice the affection in the way Justice listened to his words, his feelings, the way his consciousness caressed Anders’ thoughts, examined them, memorized them, tried to give them meaning in the fleetingness of the mortal world. There, he could not shape, could not change, all he could do was acknowledge. Preserve.

But he could give shape here, to Anders’ hopes, his desires, his insecurities and doubts, and he spun them into a solid, shimmering world, giving, assuaging, healing, all for him. Always for him.

Sometimes, he misjudged. Like that one time when he’d worn a face never to be forgotten, mourned for, bright blue eyes and streaks of grey, a forehead not marred by the symbol of their hate, the picture perfect mirror of a memory Anders had preserved through the pain, the loss, the violation of all that was good, the theft of what could have been.

He’d been distressed when Anders burst into tears, and even more distressed when Anders tried to explain, reminding him of Kristof’s wife and how she’d yelled in pain and rage, how she’d recoiled from his sight.

“I thought it was my smelly body. You said it was my smelly body!”

In retrospect, Anders should have been less flippant back then.

He still wasn’t sure if Justice ever fully grasped what it meant to see the face of someone you had lost forever – what was ‘forever’ to someone who came from a place where everything was transient and nothing could be truly had or lost – but he knew he understood the pain. He’d felt it through him, lived the failures and cruelties of the mortal world in his skin. He’d seen Hawke mourn his mother, the death of his sister, through Anders’ eyes, had felt the loss like he did.

He never wore Karl’s face again. Instead, he got creative with his outfits.

 

“Looking good in your uniform,” Anders greeted the motionless figure.

Justice cocked his head. “It is merely armour, it bears no sign of allegiance to any Order I know of. Do you wish for me to change?”

“No.” Anders reached out a hand, let it trail along Justice’s helmet. It felt warm, soft like human skin. There were no rules in the Fade, no science, no pull of forces or limit of form. Justice shaped their reality, and it was bound to nothing. “But you know what I _do_ want.”

The metal of Justice’s helmet changed into a full, human mouth as he spoke.

“I am happy to give it.”

 

The tree stump disappeared, a large bed taking its place, and Justice pushed him onto it, stepped beneath his legs that were dangling over the edge.

“You had a long day,” he murmured as he let his hands wander over Anders’ chest. “With many losses. You blame yourself.”

Anders nodded, closing his eyes as large, strong hands, stronger than they could be outside this realm, ripped apart his coat and tunic as if they were a mere sheet of paper, tore away his pants like a withered leaf. He did not bother to watch whether his clothes landed on the ground or were made to disappear; he didn’t need clothes here. Even if he did, Justice could always make new ones. Justice could do anything here. And Anders never ran out of ideas. Justice memorized them all, and he’d become quite skilled at mixing them up, leaving Anders to guess what would happen next.

Like now, when the tips of his fingers turned into small, silky tongues, and he ran them from Anders’ neck to his navel, lapping, licking, circling in no hurry, wet and hot and softer than even the fingers of the Fade.

“It is unjust to blame yourself for what is not your fault. You did not make them sick. You gave all your magic, all your skills and potions. Death is an injustice, it is not you who controls it. You taught me that. Yet for yourself, you fail to learn the lesson. You are not well behaved. You need to be corrected. You need it ungently.”

Writhing beneath Justice’s finger-tongues, Anders smiled. His dirty talk still needed some work, but his sense for what Anders needed was always spot-on.

“Yes,” he moaned, his voice loud and shameless. No desire demon could touch him here. He had everything he’d ever want or need. “I’ve been a naughty mage. I need to be disciplined. Hard and fast and rough, and,” he bit his lip, “ _big_. More than last time. Make me feel it, make me feel Justice’s burn.”

There was nothing this body could not take. And nothing Justice could not give.

Justice’s hands moved down his thighs, staying clear of where Anders really needed them.

“Inquire repeatedly.”

“Yes, please, I’m _begging_ for it.”

His back arched as a hand wrapped around his cock, five fingers pumping him while five tongues curled and licked, darting out to catch a drop of precum. Justice’s other hand came down on his chest, pressing him into the soft mattress.

“You are not to move. You must…beg… again.”

“Argh, Justice, _please_.”

 

The weight lifted off his chest; his legs were nudged further apart. A finger, solid again, teased at his hole, slipped inside, pumping in an idle rhythm in sync with the hand holding his cock before it morphed back into a tongue, lapping at him, two of them, three, four, five, pushing inside, twisting and curling, at his rim, in his hole, up to his balls. And on his cock, more of them, the hand around it hot and wet like no hand should be, all of them moving together, taking him, worshipping him, _opening_ him. He was so hard, he was so close, he was almost, almost…

With a hoarse cry, he came all over his chest, hot, white spurts covering him almost up to his neck.

_First round was quick today…_

Not that it mattered. He wasn’t here physically; there were no rules, no need for a break, no limit to his pleasure.

“White, almost like lyrium...” He heard Justice murmur through the haze of his climax, unmasked longing in his voice. And then, back to taking care of Anders, like he always did. “Make yourself glisten for me.”

Anders didn’t need to be told twice. Eagerly, if a bit sluggishly, he lifted his hands, rubbing them all over his chest, massaging it into his skin. Justice’s fingers stilled as he watched, eyes intent behind the helmet, lips curling in affection. Anders smiled up at him, reached out and pulled him down into a kiss. He tasted like the Fade. His tongue carried the tang of lyrium, and Anders could tell that this body, this vessel created by and made of Anders’ magic, left the same sweet impression in Justice’s mouth, for as always when he got to taste him, the spirit began to moan somewhere deep in his throat.

“Soon,” Anders murmured soothingly as he pulled back and cradled the helmet over where Justice’s cheek would be, “you promised me something _big_ , remember, and I seem to recall it is unjust to break a promise. But then, I’m going to give it to you.” He trailed his hand up the side of his face, twining it into where he now felt a softness like hair. “We both know you’ll be too blissed out to even maintain this place afterwards.”

“How big?” Justice pulled back into a standing position. No need to undress, no fumbling with skirts or laces, he’d conjure whatever Anders desired.

“Think Fenris, think Hawke, and add them together…” he trailed off, a grin on his face. “And then double the size.”

_Satanalia’s come early this year_

“Your body is still bound to your perception of what is possible, to the limits of your imagination—“

“Don’t worry,” Anders circled a finger around his nipple with a cheeky grin. “My imagination knows no limits. We may have been doing this for months but,” he blew him a kiss, “we’ve only just begun.”

Justice stilled, cocking his head and gazing off into the distance. “It does seem to lend itself to your desire for the ungentle. Very well. You shall feel Justice’s burn.”

And with no further warning, he lined himself up and pushed in.

Anders’ voice caught between a moan and a sob.

_Andraste’s ass, good thing this is the Fade…_

He had to take a couple of deep breaths, remind himself that this body could handle it, that it wasn’t shackled by the limits of the flesh, didn’t need the same care and precautions. He knew it to be true, yet it was hard to let his knowledge guide his perception when the sensations he experienced through this body were so _real_.

Stretched, stuffed, filled to an extent that put his imagination to the test after all, that made him keen and gasp and whimper, screaming for more but fuzzy on the details as to how _more_ should even be possible.

Justice began to thrust, even deeper, even fuller now, and Anders didn’t know whether to move into him or away. He was dancing on the edge of pain; the intensity of it was almost too much – but Anders had always been one for ‘too much’, always aching for just a little more than he could handle.

Eyes shut tight and hands clawing into the sheets, he begged for Justice to go harder, faster, to show no mercy, and Justice obliged, snapping his hips with the speed and force of the Fade, making Anders’ body flop around like a weightless doll made of straw and dust.

“Yes…. Yes,” Anders moaned at every thrust, as he was bounced up and down the bed, taken, completely and utterly Justice’s, helpless in his grip, nothing left of him but the overload of nerves in his stretched-out hole, delicious shivers of ‘too much, too fast, too deep’ running through his body, the onslaught of sensations slicking his skin with sweat, making him dizzy.

And just as he thought he’d gotten used to it, learned how to handle the force, the girth, there was a tingling, and he could have sworn Justice was smirking as the cock inside him grew even larger, nearly doubling in size at the base…

It took only one thrust for him to fall over the edge. This time, he had no breath left to cry out, a soundless grimace on his face as he arched off the mattress, came down with a crash, panting as more spurts of cum painted his body beneath Justice’s hungry eyes.

“Just… just a moment.” His voice was hoarse with moans and screams.

 

He pulled Justice back down, flush against his skin, pressed them together, rubbing the sticky remains of his pleasure into his armour as they kissed. He could feel the shivers in Justice’s body as it reacted to the touch of magic all around him, seeping into him. Outside the Fade, it was the call of lyrium he craved. In this world of his he could now only visit in Anders’ dreams, could touch and shape but no longer inhabit, it was magic, its taste, its power, the part of it that was Anders, and he felt it most when they touched, when Anders was inside him, be it with his tongue or…

He flipped them over, waited for Justice to make the lower part of his armour disappear, creating a body for Anders to sink himself into. Anders groaned as felt him wrap around him, tight, soft, warm, indistinguishable from the bodies of the mortal world. He rocked into him in slow thrusts, a leisurely pace matching his exhaustion. It wasn’t speed or friction Justice needed and by now, giving him what he _did_ need required only minimal concentration.

He placed his fingers on Justice’s lips. Slipping one into his mouth, he sent little pulses of magic through them. And through his cock. He could do that, in here. He might not be able to shape things to the same extent as Justice, but he could… influence them, adapt and redefine.

He let his magic flow freely, little bouts of force; he could feel their tremors, his cock vibrating along with Justice’s insides, both their bodies melting into an inseparable tangle of limbs and magic. _His_ magic, and it wrapped around them like a blanket as Justice thrashed and pulsed around his sock, making Anders spend himself a third and last time.

As he collapsed on top of him, he could feel their bodies losing their contours, Justice’s control of their surroundings slipping. Anders smiled, a sleepy, satisfied smile, and placed a kiss on Justice’s forehead. Justice was home, in him, in the Fade, sated and floating, belonging and at peace. It wouldn’t last. Their purpose would call for them; Anders would be pulled back into his waking mortal body and Justice would once again be stranded with only half of his home. But for now, for a few precious hours, there was quiet, there was belonging, and a deep throb of pleasurable exhaustion in Anders’ body. He closed his eyes, letting himself sink into Justice. He was safe here. He did not need to wander the Fade alone in his dreams, he was exactly where he belonged.


End file.
